


Destiny

by Xerxia



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xerxia/pseuds/Xerxia
Summary: "This would have happened anyway." Canon-divergent Everlark.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for madamemarquise on the Tumblr everlarkbirthdaydrabbles blog.

**Destiny**

 

The day of Peeta Mellark’s last reaping dawned gloriously, with a pink-and-gold sunrise sliding back to reveal blue skies, and a soft breeze fluttering through the open windows. But he couldn’t enjoy it, and not just because he was holed up in the bakery, toiling in front of the ovens.

 

He couldn’t enjoy it because he was terrified about Katniss, the girl he’d had a crush on since forever. It would be her last reaping too, one way or another. 

 

It was the  _ another _ thought that had him so worked up.

 

Peeta had spent three-quarters of his life watching Katniss Everdeen. Watching the sweet, vibrant girl who sang like an angel - but was forced to grow up far too fast - turn into a strong, independent, often-scowling woman. In the years since her father died, in the years since that gut-wrenching day she’d appeared at the back of the bakery, skeletal and with eyes already dead, Katniss had learned to take care of herself and her family. And Peeta had been watching. He knew each time she took out tesserae, had been mentally counting her slips in the reaping bowls for six long years. And this year, her name was in the reaping twenty-eight times. Twenty-eight!

 

The odds, he knew, were not in her favour.

 

His own seven slips seemed paltry by comparison. Truthfully, he’d never really worried about reaping day, not after the first few times anyway. Not once he realized that the kids being called were almost always Seam. Blond merchant heads appeared on the podium only very rarely. 

 

A soft tap on the back door shook him from his reverie, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips. He pulled open the door to find her standing on the back stoop, cheeks flushed pink and long black braid tucked under a cap. “Good morning, Peeta,” she said softly, and his smile widened.

 

Though they’d been classmates their entire lives, Peeta had never spoken to Katniss until a year and a half ago. Oh, she came to the kitchen door frequently before that, trading squirrels and greens for bakery bread, but she’d always traded with his father while Peeta tried not to get caught staring. But a year and a half ago, everything changed.

 

A year and a half ago, District 12 changed.

 

And Gale Hawthorne was to blame.

 

“Good morning, Katniss,” Peeta said, ushering her into the kitchen. She glanced around; out of habit, he thought. There was no longer anyone to fear in the Mellark Bakery kitchen. Not since the measles outbreak that killed Peeta’s mother and middle brother eighteen months ago. The same outbreak that had left dozens dead, merchant and miner alike. The outbreak that cost the Hawthorne family two children and apparently drove the eldest Hawthorne child quite mad.

 

“I, uhm. I brought some cheese to trade,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. He liked how shy she could be. Growing up, she’d seemed aloof; certainly the rest of their classmates thought she was stuck-up. But that wasn’t it. She was simply cautious and reserved. But she’d begun to drop her walls around him, started to let him see who she really was. And he adored that girl even more than the fierce huntress the rest of the district saw.

 

She produced two perfect little goat cheeses from her bag, each carefully wrapped in basil leaves. With the fence that separated the district from the surrounding woods electrified 24/7 now, she seldom had any meat to trade. But her sister made cheese and they grew herbs and Peeta and his father were always happy to trade for those.

 

Not that Katniss had a lot of other choices. Since the old black market, the Hob, was burned to the ground by Peacekeepers nearly a year and a half ago, the shops in town were the only places left for her to sell to or trade with. Peeta knew she always came to the bakery first though. Not the grocer, not Rooba the butcher. To him.

 

They chatted just a little as they completed their trades. On such a fear-fraught day, they stuck to safe subjects - the weather, cheese buns, Prim. Prim was the one topic Peeta could always count on Katniss sparing a few words for. And the one thing that could bring a soft smile to her lush lips. Her smiles were rare, each uptick of her lips he earned felt like an accomplishment, he cherished each one. 

 

It had been a long, slow process of building trust to get to the point where she would talk to him about herself, her life, her family. A year and a half of growing together, of gentle coaxing, of never pushing, and finally he thought she might see him as a friend.

 

“Peeta,” Katniss said as he was placing the bread and rolls he’d offered in trade into her satchel. He glanced up to meet her silver eyes, wondering if she was going to chide him again for putting too many in the bag. It was a game they played; he tried every time to tuck a few extra morsels in, knowing how terribly the Everdeens struggled without access to the woods. Sometimes she’d argue with him about it. More frightening were the times she wouldn’t. Today, though, her eyes were soft with concern. “Good luck this afternoon.” 

 

He tried to give her a reassuring smile. He wanted to tell her that they’d both be fine, but those twenty-eight slips weighed heavily on his heart. And he wouldn’t lie to her. “You too,” he said.

 

As she turned to leave, Peeta called out to her. “Katniss?” His voice trembled just slightly. She looked back over her shoulder. “Could I see you tonight, after the Reaping?” She turned fully, her eyes searching his, and he held his breath. 

 

After what felt like an eternity, she nodded. “Okay,” she said simply.

 

“Okay,” he breathed, relieved. Assuming they both survived, Peeta was going to ask Katniss to marry him. Tonight. He’d been over the books with his father, multiple times, and knew the bakery could provide a comfortable life for both of the surviving Mellark sons, and their future families. Knew he could offer Katniss the stability that had been so lacking in her life for years. If she would allow it. 

 

Peeta knew Katniss didn’t love him, knew her heart still belonged to Gale Hawthorne. But he also knew she was pragmatic, and with some persuading she would surely see how much easier it would be for her to care for her mother and sister if she had the bakery’s stability behind her. 

 

He would woo her then, would show her how beautiful and special she was, shower her with attention and affection. And maybe, just maybe, someday she might grow to love him too.

 

But if she could never love him that way, it would be enough to have her beside him in friendship, to know that she was safe and fed and cared for. He only hoped he could convince her.

 

o-o-o

 

Peeta made the short walk from the bakery to the square where the reaping was to take place alone, giving the whipping post and stockades a wide berth. After Gale Hawthorne and several of his miner cohort rioted, seriously damaging the rail line and justice building before disappearing into the woods, new Peacekeepers were dispatched to District 12, along with new rules. In those first few months after Head Peacekeeper Thread arrived, the whipping posts and stockades and even the gallows saw a lot of use. Things had calmed down some since then. The fence was still on, there was still a curfew and heavy patrols, but the torture devices stood mostly dormant. 

 

He checked in for what would be the very last time and took his place with the other eighteen year old boys up front, closest to the stage. Even as he exchanged greetings and well wishes his attention was firmly on the pens that held the girls. Waiting for her. The machine gun waving Peacekeepers, the Capitol cameras, the dignitaries lining the stage, he didn't notice any of them. He only had eyes for Katniss. 

 

She arrived with fewer than five minutes to spare, straight-spined and stoic. But she sought his eyes in the crowd. And she graced him with a small upturn of her lips. 

 

As always, it was ladies first. Peeta didn't even hear the name that came from the bowl, only that it wasn't Katniss, his Katniss. Relief flooded through him. She was safe from the reaping forever. 

 

The faintest of smiles played across his lips as he let his mind wander. Let himself envision the future he was going to propose to her. A future for them both, together. 

 

And then it all came crashing down. Every hope and dream decimated when Effie Trinket called the name of the male tribute. 

 

Peeta Mellark. 

 

“No!” a voice he knew all too well yelled from the pens where the girls stood. It was her scream that ultimately saved him. He paused his march of doom, turning back, taking a half dozen steps towards her, trying to see her amidst the throng. He’d only just made eye contact when a deafening blast slammed him, and the children around him, to the cobbles.

 

Chaos erupted.

 

Crashes and screams surrounded him, chunks of debris rained down. Booted feet large and small scrambled over him as if he were nothing but trash on the street. He tried to lift his throbbing head, to see above the bodies around him, but he was woozy and confused. Blood trickled down his temple and the air was thick with smoke. When a firm hand grabbed his shoulder, he expected to see Peacekeeper-white hovering over him. Instead, it was soft blue. Katniss, wearing her mother’s dress and a terrified expression, ash streaking her raven hair. “Get up,” she hissed, tugging at him.

 

Peeta was barely on his feet before they were running. It took every bit of his concentration not to fall as she ran full-tilt, clutching his hand. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even figure out where they were going as they zig-zagged down alleys and around buildings. She stopped only when they got to the fence. Peeta’s heart sank. The fence, the barrier that kept brave, resilient Katniss Everdeen captive in the dull district these days. 

 

But Katniss stood before the fence, panting, and leaned towards it. “What are you-” he started, and she shook her head, laying a finger across her own lips to silence him. She listened, for what he didn’t know. For five, ten, fifteen seconds, she was still and silent. Then a hint of a grin lifted her lips.

 

“It’s off,” she said, and grasped the bottom of the chain link. Peeta gasped, but when Katniss wasn’t immediately fried, he huffed out a relieved breath. “Come on,” she said, holding up the fence enough for him to slither under. He was afraid of getting electrocuted, but he was far more afraid of the Peacekeepers who were surely searching for him. No one had ever escaped the reaping before.

 

His clothing snagged and tore, but he managed to get under the fence. Katniss followed, taking just a moment to bend the chain link back into it’s original position. To obscure their route, he thought.  “What happened back there?” he gasped. 

 

She didn't spare him a glance. “An explosion.”

 

“How?”

 

“I don't know.” Then she was towing him again, running nearly as quickly as they had through the district.

 

She clearly knew where she was heading and knew the terrain, avoiding obstacles with stunning ease. Peeta, on the other hand, could barely stay on his feet, crashing into every stump, tripping over every root. By the time they slowed, he was bruised and aching, sweating and nauseous. Still they continued, the path she chose as convoluted and meandering as the one through town, crossing over itself multiple times, seeming to circle back over and over. Even in the midst of his terror, he couldn’t help but be impressed. She wasn’t lost. She was taking every precaution to prevent anyone from following their trail.

 

Perhaps four hours had passed since his name had emerged from the giant glass bowl. They crested a hill, and Peeta found himself looking down into a verdant green valley in which a perfect jewel of blue was cradled. The ocean, maybe, or a lake. He’d read about them, but had never seen one, not even a picture of one. His breath was sucked away by the intense beauty of it. “What is this place?” he breathed reverently. They were the first words he’d spoken since the fence.

 

“My father’s lake,” Katniss said simply. “We’ll be safe here.” In another time, in another mindset, he might have pointed out to her that  _ safe _ didn’t usually mean miles outside the district, surrounded by rabid animals and venomous snakes, hunted by armed Peacekeepers. But his every thought of safety had been shattered when that pink-haired freak pulled his name at the reaping.

 

For the first time, his brain fully grasped that. He, Peeta Mellark, a merchant who had never taken tesserae and with only seven slips in the bowl, had been reaped. He had been chosen to die.

 

He didn’t realize he was shaking until she wrapped her arms around him. Katniss Everdeen was hugging him, and he was too distraught to enjoy it. “You’re in shock,” she said softly, and there was a note of tears in her voice. Perhaps she, too, was only now processing the enormity of what had happened. Of what they’d done. When the Peacekeepers caught up with them, she’d be killed for her part in his escape. Shot on sight if she was lucky, hauled back to the district for a public execution if she wasn’t. 

 

She had thrown her life away for him.

 

A choked little noise of misery escaped him and she pulled back, her glassy eyes searching his own. Then she took his hand and lead him down into the valley. 

 

Even surrounded as they were by lush green trees and birdsong, a landscape of beauty beyond his imagination, Peeta could only stare at his feet, numb. But when she tugged him into the shadow of a small building he looked up. A tiny house, made entirely of concrete, standing sentinel on the shore, as strange a sight as he could ever have imagined. A house, here, so far outside the district boundary. “There used to be others,” Katniss said quietly at his confused expression. “There are still some foundations around the lake.” She led him inside. 

 

The shack was tiny, just a single room with a fireplace. No furnishings, no glass in the windows, no door. There was a pile of neatly split wood in the corner and a child-sized twig broom propped against the wall. She guided him to sit beside the hearth. “Wait here,” she said, before leaving. He sank to the cement floor, propped against the wall.

 

She was back quickly, holding a folded piece of birch bark. “Drink,” she demanded, pressing the dripping bit of bark into his hands. Holding it, he could see it was a makeshift bowl filled with icy cold water, and he gulped at it greedily. “Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick,” she muttered, but he didn’t listen. When he’d finished, she darted back out to refill the bowl. “Take off your shirt,” she said as she returned, moving to kneel in front of him. His eyes widened, but he obeyed, hands shaking as each button slipped free. “Hold this.” She pressed the bark into his hands again, then tore a strip from the bottom of his discarded shirt. Any protest died on his lips when she dipped the bit of fabric into the water he was holding, then ever-so-gently began washing the blood from his injured head.

 

Peeta had never seen her so closely. He could count each faint freckle that kissed her nose, feel her shallow breaths whisper across his lips. “Why did you do it?”

 

Her hand stilled momentarily and her eyes flitted to his. Then she looked away and continued cleaning his wound. “I couldn’t let them take you,” she answered after a long pause.

 

“Why?”

 

She shook her head, turning away and tearing another strip from his shirt. With deft hands, she bound his head, though the bleeding was minimal at that point. She took the bark bowl from his hands and left the little cabin wordlessly.

 

Peeta tipped his head back against the rough wall and closed his eyes, breathing hard against the rush of emotion, too heartsick and hollow to sort out the myriad of feelings. He was nodding off when she returned. “Don’t go to sleep,” she said, the gentleness of her voice at odds with the sharpness of her words. He opened his eyes, lifting an eyebrow at her in confusion. She stood before him, the soot and sweat of their escape washed from her face, black hair freed from its braid and dripping onto the shoulders of her dress. Her arms were laden with fruits and greens gathered from the woods. He marvelled at her resourcefulness. “My - my mother always tells miners with head wounds that they need to stay awake. Medical protocol.” 

 

In spite of everything, he chuckled. Katniss scowled at him, and he laughed more. She set her armload of fruit onto the hearth. “What are you laughing at?”

 

“I just got reaped and then blown up. And then we ran for hours through woods filled with snakes and rabid animals, and probably quicksand. There are doubtless a hundred Peacekeepers on their way right now, Peacekeepers who’ll do heaven knows what to us when they find us. And you’re worried about me falling asleep?” He watched her bite her lip, as if she was unwilling to give in to the mirth.

 

“Shut up and eat your pears,” she snickered, handing him two pieces of fruit.

 

“Yes, Dr. Everdeen,” he laughed.

 

They ate in companionable silence, listening to the song of the forest float in through the doorframe. Every so often, Katniss would stand and creep to the door or one of the windows on silent feet, looking out for any sign of Peacekeepers. “You should go back,” Peeta said finally, reluctantly. “While you still can. In all of the chaos, they probably haven't noticed you're missing yet. You…” he swallowed hard. “You could sneak back into the district. No one would have to know...”

 

“I'm not leaving you.” Her words were low but forceful. 

 

“We can’t stay out here forever,” he reasoned.

 

“We’ll find a way,” she said, but her bottom lip trembled.

 

“Your family,” he started, but she shook her head, moving away from him to sit on the hearth. Peeta followed.

 

“I can’t leave you.” Her voice cracked, and Peeta sat beside her, lifting her chin to catch her eyes. He could see her indecision, could feel her regret. He knew how much she loved her sister, how terrified she must be of what could happen to Prim when Katniss’ absence was noticed.

 

“Katniss,” he sighed. “I'm not saying it wouldn't be hard. But there are other people who need you.”

 

“You need me,” she cried. “And I-” she stopped, wrenching her chin away from his grasp, dropping her face into her hands.

 

“You what?” He leaned as close as he dared, spoke softly in her ear. Watched her shiver despite the summer heat. She shook her head again. “Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he said.

 

He gently pulled her hands away from her face, staring into the shimmering silver pools she’d hidden. Then he cupped her cheek in one large hand. She didn’t resist as he tipped her head and pressed his lips against hers in a soft, questioning kiss. He pulled back quickly, but she chased him, their lips meeting again more confidently. Her fingers curled around his hand, and she sighed.

 

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh and shout and sing praises to the heavens. She was kissing him. Katniss Everdeen was kissing him, and making soft little sounds of pleasure as she did.

 

He wanted to cry. He wanted to cry and scream and curse the unfairness of a world where the girl of his dreams was kissing him on what could only be the eve of his death, for surely they couldn’t stay forever in their perfect little bubble. Reality would catch up with them sooner or later. He knew only one of them would make it out of this mess alive, and it had to be her.

 

She seemed to sense the shift in his mood, breaking their kiss but wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her hair, his lips just brushing her neck. It felt so impossibly good that he couldn’t let go. And she clung to him with an unspoken desperation too.

 

After what felt like hours, Peeta finally spoke, emboldened by the feeling of her small body pressed to his, their hearts beating together. “I wanted to ask you to marry me.” He felt Katniss tense, but he didn’t let her pull away. “Today, after the reaping.”

 

“Why?” It was nothing but a breath, but he heard it.

 

“You know why,” he said. There was no way she could have been unaware of his feelings for her, even if he’d never said anything. For as careful as he’d been not to spook her, not to frighten her away with the intensity of his love for her, he’d never hidden it either. Over the year and a half they’d been growing together, he’d been liberal with his smiles and compliments. And while he’d planned to use the stability he could have offered to convince her, there was no longer any stability and no need for pretense. He loved her, plain and simple. 

 

“I never wanted to get married,” she whispered, then fell silent. He sensed she wasn't done speaking. “But I’d have said yes, Peeta,” she admitted finally. He could feel her tears against his bare chest. Could feel his own tears burning the back of his throat. They clung to each other in the cement cabin, mourning what could have been. Terrified by what the future would bring.

 

Daylight faded, shrouding them in dim before finally plunging them into darkness. Shafts of moonlight wove through her hair, crowning her in silver. He stroked the strands away from her face, admiring her. She wasn’t conventionally pretty; she was far too thin, her figure almost boyish. But with her inky hair and those incredible eyes, she was stunning, captivating. And the fire within her made her beautiful, more radiant than the sun. To him, she was perfect.

 

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, watched her lips quirk up in contentment. “Why did you help me today, Katniss?” He had to know. Had to know if what was growing between them was real.

 

“I told you,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

 

“Please?” He was begging. He needed to understand.

 

She sighed, and for a long time Peeta thought she was going to refuse him still. But finally, she spoke. “You’re my dandelion,” she said. He wrinkled his nose in confusion. But then a memory surfaced, of standing in the schoolyard, his eye swollen half-shut, catching her gaze just briefly before looking away. Watching her pick dandelions with a look of sheer determination on her face.

 

“This…this isn’t about the bread?” he stuttered, horror dawning. “From when we were kids?” She shrugged and he bit back a groan. “I think we can let that go. I mean, you just saved my life.”

 

“But you didn’t know me. We had never even spoken. I wouldn’t even have been here to do it if you hadn’t helped me then. And all of those times since, all of the things you’ve given me that I can never repay.”

 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said softly, his heart hurting. He loved her, would never use guilt or debt to influence her. “You never have.”

 

“It’s - no. It’s not that, Peeta. It’s you. I don’t want to lose you. You - you’re my dandelion, my promise that life can be good, in spite of everything.”

 

He kissed her again, heart in his throat, delicate wings fluttering in his chest. “Marry me,” he said against her lips. “Here. Tonight. Toast with me, Katniss.” He knew that one night was probably all they had, but he thought he could die happy knowing she’d been his, if ever so briefly. “I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you.”

 

She stroked his cheek, her eyes searching his. “Okay,” she said. “Yes.”

 

There was no bread for toasting in the little shack in the woods, no bakery or bread bushes by the lake. But Katniss cut thin slices of apple with her penknife while Peeta lit a fire, kept purposefully small to avoid detection.

 

They knelt beside the flickering flame, hands clasped tightly. Reciting the ancient vows together.

 

_ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. _

 

They fed each other bites of fire-singed apple and sealed their covenant with kisses and promises. It wasn’t how Peeta had envisioned his toasting day, kneeling on a filthy cement floor, shirtless and injured, with a death sentence over his head. But it was Katniss by his side, Katniss kissing away his tears, Katniss promising him always. And he was happy.

 

In that moment, he was happy.

 

It was late, the moon had begun her descent and Katniss was yawning. “We should try to sleep,” Peeta said. “I don’t think they’ll be looking for us in the dark.” 

 

“But your head...” Katniss said.

 

“I think I’ll be all right.” He couldn’t see her face clearly, but he knew she’d be chewing on her bottom lip, thinking. “Please,” he said softly. “I want to fall asleep holding my wife.”

 

She kissed him, just lightly, and tugged him to lie beside her in front of the hearth, gone cold again but with the evidence of their ceremony still visible. He drew her close, pulling her head down to use his arm as a pillow, holding her snugly against him. And together they drifted to sleep in their oasis of calm at the eye of the storm.

 

o-o-o

 

Peeta jolted awake, his back and neck and head aching, squinting in the soft grey light of dawn. But it wasn’t the pain that had woken him. It was Katniss. 

 

She was still beside him, but sitting upright, obviously tense, muscles taut as springs. He knew instinctively not to say a word, instead touching her hand gently. She turned to look at him, eyes wild. “There’s someone coming,” she hissed.

 

The words were barely out before he heard it, the snap of someone - or something - walking closeby. They both scrambled to their feet. They had no weapons, save a tiny paring knife, and no escape. When a figure burst through the doorway, Peeta shoved Katniss behind him, shielding her with his body. He’d tell them he’d kidnapped her, dragged her here against her will. He’d lie to save her, any way he could.

 

But the Peacekeeper who stood before them, staring down the sight of his rifle, was unlike any Peeta had ever seen. His uniform was dark grey, not white. A long, tense minute passed. Then the stranger’s gun lowered. “Catnip!” he yelled.

 

“Gale?” Katniss stepped out from behind Peeta, who stood wide-eyed and bewildered. The well-fed man in front of them barely bore any resemblance to the stooped and sickly miner who had tried to incite a rebellion a year and a half ago. A miner who everyone thought was dead. Certainly, when Peacekeepers had dragged back several bloodied messes of fabric and flesh, displaying them so grotesquely in the public square, no one had had any reason to doubt they were the bodies of Gale and his co-conspirators.

 

Yet there he stood, alive and robust, grinning. His weapon clattered to the floor. “You left me a hell of a convoluted trail to follow. Took half the night to find you!”

 

Katniss ran across the tiny room and launched herself into his arms. Peeta watched with his heart in his stomach as Gale spun Katniss, laughing in joyous reunion. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew you were too smart to get caught!”

 

They were a striking pair, attractive together, both dark-haired and with rich olive skin. Gale’s height and breadth complemented Katniss’s almost delicate frame. Their near identical expressions of happiness as they stared wide-eyed at each other completed the picture. Peeta felt like an interloper, watching something sacred that wasn’t for his eyes.

 

Gale set Katniss down, but continued holding her arms, a huge smile splitting his face. “I've been in District Thirteen,” he said, and laughed at her puzzled expression. “It's still there, underground. I’ll tell you about it later. But Catnip… it’s over. It’s all over.”

 

“What?” she said. “What’s over? I don’t understand.”

 

“The rebellion,” Gale said, then laughed at her expression. “President Snow is dead!” Twin gasps filled the tiny shack. “That’s why I’m here, my battalion bombed the square in Twelve, took out the Capitol reps and most of the Peacekeepers. The rebellion, the oppression. The Games, the Capitol. It’s all over. We’re free.” 

 

Peeta listened with dawning comprehension. President Snow, gone. The Hunger Games over. District 12, free. “And the district, our families... is everyone okay?” Peeta asked. Gale’s head snapped up, as if he had only just noticed the other man’s presence.

 

“There were some casualties,” Gale said dismissively. He turned back to Katniss. “Your mom and Prim are fine, they’re safe.” He reached out, stroked her hair.

 

Peeta let that information wash over him. Katniss was free. Free to hunt again, free from the reaping forever. Free to be with the dark-haired man looking down at her with such obvious adoration. 

 

It seemed to take longer for Katniss to understand. But when she did, a huge smile split her face, the biggest smile Peeta had ever seen grace her lovely mouth. “Free,” she murmured. Then she was running.

 

Running to Peeta.

 

She threw her arms around him, laughing. His arms hesitated before embracing her. Not as steady as they once had been, but still warm and strong. “You’re free, Peeta. They can’t take you now.” His heart clenched at her words. She no longer needed to keep him safe. He could go back home, back to his quiet, empty life. And she could be with Gale. Peeta would give her that, wouldn’t hold her to anything she had said while they were in the cabin, in their little refuge from the world, terrified, but together and happy, however briefly.

 

He couldn’t resist pressing one final kiss to her temple. His Katniss, who had never been his, not really. Then he released her. Then he set her free. But she surprised him, reaching for his hand and tugging him the half dozen steps to where Gale stood. “Do you remember Peeta Mellark?” she said shyly. Peeta stuck his hand out, but Gale merely stared, unmoving, as if sizing him up. After a moment, Peeta tucked his hand in his pocket.

 

Gale nodded. “The baker’s boy. You were reaped,” he said, almost dismissively. “Good thing you didn’t get up onto that stage. You’d be dead now, the entire platform was destroyed.” Peeta swallowed hard, and felt Katniss tighten her grip on his hand. He’d wondered, in the back of his mind. But knowing was different. Gale turned his attention back to Katniss, Peeta saw his brow furrow. “You rescued  _ him _ ?” 

 

“We snuck away. It was chaos, with all of the smoke and fire. When I saw the lights go off I figured the fence would be out too.”

 

“We cut the power, just before we triggered the explosives.” Gale glanced at Peeta again, the confusion plain on his face. Then he angled his body, bending to speak to Katniss, as if Peeta wasn’t there. As if Katniss wasn’t clutching his hand like a lifeline. “Why’d you do it? You left Prim, but took him?”

 

“I made sure Prim was safe before we ran,” she said defensively. That didn’t surprise Peeta, he knew Katniss’s family mattered more to her than her own life.

 

“You risked their lives by taking off with him?” Gale’s tone had turned incredulous, derisive. Peeta narrowly bit back a retort. After all, Gale hadn’t been around when his own mother spent two days in the stockades for aiding and abetting her rebel son. “You said you couldn’t leave your family when I asked you to run away with me.” Gale whispered the last part.

 

“Peeta  _ is _ my family,” Katniss barked. “He’s... my husband.” Gale’s expression was one of shock, Peeta was certain his own was too. Yes, they’d toasted, and yes, he’d called Katniss his wife, but he hadn’t expected her to acknowledge it in the light of day, and he certainly hadn’t planned on holding her to it. She'd given a doomed man his final wish, kisses and promises, the warmth of her embrace in the night. But it wasn't real. He could only assume she was using him as an excuse, a convenient defense for being out in the woods. An impulsive reason to justify an impulsive act. 

 

Peeta watched the myriad of expressions flit across Gale’s face - disbelief, anger, regret, before setting on a kind of hollowness. “You… really, Catnip?”

 

“Yes.” Her voice was surprisingly strong and clear, not a hint of hesitation. She looked up at Peeta, and smiled softly. He searched her face for any sign that it was all for show, some sort of act to get back at Gale. But he knew she was incapable of lying. The warmth he saw in her expression was real, and it was for him. 

 

He wanted to kiss her so bad he could taste it. 

 

Instead, he squeezed her hand and smiled. Gale watched them, and Peeta recognized the look of resignation on his face. The same look Peeta had seen in his own mirror for years as he watched Katniss and Gale, always together. As he tried to screw up the courage to talk to Katniss. Tried and failed, over and over. “Congratulations,” Gale said, and it was genuine, if sad. 

 

Katniss released Peeta's hand and hugged Gale again. Peeta could barely hear Gale whisper, “Are you happy?” But he saw Katniss’s answering nod clearly. 

 

o-o-o

 

Katniss and Gale chatted the entire walk back to the district, which seemed shorter than the frantic run away from it had been, even though they were moving much more slowly. When Peeta could pull his concentration away from the riot of green surrounding him, he was heartened by the happiness he saw on Katniss’s face. She was clearly joyful to have her woods back and her friend back. But her small hand holding his own banished any jealousy he might have felt. And Gale, though he scowled at the racket Peeta made crashing through the brush, seemed accepting of the relationship he’d been so clearly shocked to see.

 

As the unlikely trio approached the district boundary, it was clear something monumental had happened. Plumes of smoke drifted lazily, the air acrid and bitter. A low buzz spoke to people congregating somewhere in the distance. Together, the effect was chilling, ominous.

 

The electricity was off, though both Katniss and Gale paused to listen. Peeta wasn’t certain what they expected to hear; it was only his second time this close to the fence, but he could see their relief. Katniss slid under, graceful as a cat, and Gale followed. But Peeta stood for a few moments longer. The fence marked the end of the surreal adventure his life had been the past eighteen or so hours. He’d fallen through a rabbit hole of sorts, and was apprehensive about what would happen on the other side. But Katniss was waiting for him, smiling at him through the chain link. “Come on, Peeta,” she said, and there was no rebuke, no impatience. 

 

He wasn’t as nimble as the others, but he managed to scramble through with only a couple of scratches and scrapes. As they walked through the meadow, headed towards the Seam, Peeta grabbed Gale's arm, slowed him down a few paces. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I - we thought you were dead. I know she never meant to betray you. She loves you, you know.”

 

Gale shook his head, one eye on Katniss who was several yards ahead. “Don't believe it,” he said. “You won her over. I asked her to run away with me, after Posy and Vick died. She wouldn't. But she did with you.”

 

“Only because of the reaping,” Peeta started, but Gale waved him off. 

 

“I know you've always loved her,” Gale said. “You we're about as subtle as Effie Trinket.” Peeta cringed at the reminder of the Capitolite who had rendered his death sentence. “Take care of her.” Then he jogged to catch up with Katniss, speaking to her briefly, too quietly for Peeta to hear. 

 

By the time Peeta caught up with Katniss, Gale was running down a side road. “His mother’s house,” she said by way of explanation. 

 

He expected they’d continue to the Seam, to check on Prim and Katniss’s mother. So when she took his hand and turned towards town he gave her a questioning look. “They’re healers,” she said by way of explanation. “They’ll be where the injured are.”

 

They walked in silence. Every step felt harder and heavier to Peeta, each foot they moved brought them closer to the end of whatever it was that had happened between them. Closer to whatever new reality awaited.

 

“What’s going on?” Katniss said softly. “Are you afraid? Gale said the Peacekeepers are all gone, either dead or held prisoner.”

 

“It’s not that,” he said, but he couldn’t mask the misery in his voice.

 

“Then what?”

 

It was a few minutes before Peeta spoke again, standing at the edge of town proper, smoldering ruins lining the road, the stench of destruction all around. “Katniss,” he rasped, his voice already rough from emotion and the smoke that was thickening all around them. “In spite of the reaping and everything, last night was the best night of my life.” 

 

She glanced at him, warily. “But?” she said.

 

He huffed out a breath, and stopped. She stood in front of him, arms crossed. “But I’d never hold you to the things you said in that cabin.”

 

“Peeta, what?” she started, but he shook his head.

 

“I know you have something with Gale. I - I won’t get in the way of that.”

 

Katniss scowled. “What I have with Gale is a really great hunting partnership. A brotherhood. Don’t use him as an excuse for your second thoughts.”

 

She was fast, spinning away, stomping towards town. But fueled by equal parts horror and hope, he was faster. He was standing in front of her in a heartbeat, halting her forward motion. “Katniss,” he breathed. “My only regret is that I didn’t tell you sooner. I love you. I’ve loved you since we were five. I only want you to be happy.”

 

“Then don’t make decisions for me. Trust me to know my own heart.” Her words faded away, her eyes fixed on his were open and clear, no layers of defence between them, no lies. His heart soared. As impossible as it seemed, Katniss Everdeen had chosen  _ him _ .

 

And in the middle of that post-apocalyptic hell, he kissed her. He kissed her and she kissed him back, and they clung to each other, and it was real.

 

They marched the last mile to the square hand in hand, Peeta, despite his trepidation, held his head high. He had Katniss Everdeen by his side, he felt like he could conquer anything.

 

People appeared along the route, citizens of District 12 who nodded or called out a greeting, or simply stared curiously. Others, dressed in grey jumpsuits like Gale, who didn’t even lift their gazes. All with shovels and carts, sifting through the heaps of blackened rubble and ruins.

 

Gale’s comment that there had been  _ some casualties _ seemed to drastically understate the destruction of the town portion of District 12. Shrouded piles of what could only be bodies lay ready for the funeral pyre, burning across from where the Justice building had stood just twenty-four hours earlier. Peeta’s heart hammered in his chest as they approached the square. He had no idea what they would find.

 

The bakery still stood, the physical structure anyway. The damage was heavy, but not absolute. The large plate glass windows his mother had always fussed over were gone, the door blown off it’s hinges. But the building remained. With a deep breath, Peeta stepped inside, into the building that had been his home and his future.

 

The floor was thick with detritus, broken glass and twisted metal, most of the interior fire-singed and water-logged. It was eerily silent. A lump formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. “It’s all gone,” he whispered. His future, the only way he could provide for Katniss, to give her the life she deserved. He felt sick.

 

But Katniss squeezed his hand. “We’ll rebuild, Peeta.”

 

He turned to her, and she smiled, like dawn breaking. In her, he could see rebirth in the midst of the destruction. The promise of a new life, a new reality that they would build. “Together?”

 

“Together.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
